


Seven Generations Passing

by spikesgirl58



Series: 12 Fics of Christmas 2018 [6]
Category: NCIS, The Addams Family (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 04:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17052731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: Tony's mom's British Paddington family is related to the American Addams. Senior shows up and wants Tony to hit up Gomez and Morticia for money to invest in his most recent schemes.  However, nothing ever is as it seems in the Addams household.





	Seven Generations Passing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [A_Boleyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Boleyn/gifts).



Tony wasn’t keen on his father’s entrepreneurial schemes. He wasn’t keen on his father’s need for easy and ready money.  Hell, there were days when he wasn’t even keen on his father.  This was one of those days. 

Tony stood at the gate that surround the very dark and very creepy mansion. The sky was black with clouds and a few flakes floated down, promising more to come.  Tony knew he needed to get in and out fast if he was going to avoid this storm.  He reached for it and swore the gate growled at him.

“Ah, nice gate?” he tried and reluctantly it swung open and he walked the short distance between it and the front door. Once the place might have been something spectacular, but now its glory days were well in its past.  The wood smelled of age and mildew and Tony caught his breath as he mounted the porch stairs.  They looked as if they would collapse at any moment.  Yet they held firm.

Tony wished with all his might that he could have convinced McGee or even Abby to come with him. In fact, this place was right up Abby’s lane, but the Goth girl had plans she couldn’t wiggle out of.  At this point, Tony would have paid big money to have Gibbs behind him, ready to head slap him into action.

Tony reached out and used the knocker. It was so loud that it momentarily deafened him and he staggered back a step.  The door creaked open and a wall of black greeted him.  It took Tony a couple of seconds to realize that there was a head on top of the mass.

It growled at him and Tony’s mouth worked without sound. Finally, he squeaked out.  “Hi, I’m Anthony DiNozzo.  Mr. Addams is expecting me?”

The growl evolved to a grumble as the man turned to lead the way into the house. Tony closed his eyes, cursed his father, in case he didn’t make it out alive, and stepped inside.

He tried not to stare, but he couldn’t help it. There was a huge towering polar bear in one corner of the room and across from it was a mounted swordfish with a foot sticking out of its mouth.

“Poor guy,” Tony tried, pointing to the fish. “Guess he bit off more than he could chew.”

There was a giggle and Tony spun. The man standing there was dressed in a brown ulster, his bald head sticking out of it like a light bulb.

“Did you know Cousin Hymie?”

“Uh, no… I was talking about the fish.”

“Me, too. Hi, ya!”  He held out a hand.  Tony had to admit, it felt a little fish like with its clamminess.

“I’m Anthony DiNozzo. Are you Mr. Addams?”

“I’m Fester Addams. I think you want my brother, Gomez.”  Fester studied him for a moment.  “You sounded older on the phone.”

“That was my dad, I’m Anthony DiNozzo, Junior.” He gestured behind him.  “You’ve got quite a house here.”

“It’s home. Most of this is Morticia’s work.  I think she should do this professionally.”

“Yeah, there are some folks in the Middle East who would love this stuff.”

Fester giggled, a strange unsettling noise, and Tony suddenly found great relief in the fact that he was packing.   He grabbed a bell rope and yanked.  The responding gong made the house tremble.  Instantly, the very tall butler was there.

“You rang?”

“Lurch, this man is here to see Gomez on business.”

“Rrrrrrr.” The man rumbled his response and walked away.

“So what do you do for a living, Tony?”

“I’m a NCIS agent.”

“A spy?” Fester became downright jubilant.  He glowed, literally.

“Not exactly. We investigate crimes that have occurred to military personal and try to solve them.”

“Is it very exciting?”

“Mostly it’s a lot of sitting around and filling out paperwork.”

“Oh…” Fester’s demeanor now headed in the opposite direction. “Darn.”

“Why, dear Uncle Fester, what’s wrong?” A woman floated into the room, the only thing moving, and only barely at there, were her feet.  She was thin to the point of pain and was seemingly sewn into her tight form-hugging dressing.  She placed a hand on his arm and managed to look concerned without moving a muscle in her face.

“Tony’s job is boring.”

Morticia smiled at Tony and he shivered at its coldness. No amount of money was worth this.  His father was wrong.

“I’m sure Tony didn’t mean to upset you.” To Tony, she said.  “You must forgive Uncle Fester.  He’s very frustrated in not being able to find a career.  Still, he’s only a boy.  That time will come.”  She held out a hand that was as cold as ice.  “I am Morticia Addams.”

“Uh, Anthony DiNozzo… junior.”

“Ah, yes, we have been expecting you. It’s so rare to find a previously unknown ancestral branch.”

“He’s one of us?”

“We are one of him, dear Fester.” Morticia tapped on a box and a moment later, the lid popped open and a hand stuck out.  “Dear Thing, could we see the family tree diagram you have been working on?”

The hand did an approximation of a nod and disappeared. A moment later, it re-appeared with a piece of rolled parchment.

“Thank you, Thing.”

“It’s a hand,” Tony stammered.

“Yes, it’s very helpful to have an extra one around the house.”

Tony knelt to look under the small end table, convinced it was a trick, as Morticia carried the paper to a large table and spread it out.

“See, Fester,” Morticia said, indicating an empty branch of an elaborate tree. “Mr. DiNozzo is related to us by means of the British Paddingtons.”

“No!”

“Yes!” Morticia’s voice was grave.  “You remember mad, mad Uncle Mordecai.  That must have been seven generations ago.”

“They sang praises to him in Bedlam!” Fester told Tony proudly.

“Well, I guess he was a bit of a ladies man and romanced some of the guards there.”

“No!”

Morticia nodded proudly. “And that’s where we know Tony’s family from.  They in short made us what we are today.”

“Rich?”

“Blessed.” Morticia kissed Fester’s cheek, then smiled at another approaching figure.  “Ah Gomez, come and meet Cousin Tony from the Paddington line of Addams.”

“Good show old fellow. I must admit you sounded older on the phone.”  A hand was thrust out and Tony felt as if his shoulder was dislocated as they shook hands.

“That was my father.” Tony rescued his hand.  “My father was detained, so he asked me to come in his stead.”  They didn’t need to know it was the FBI doing the detaining.

“He said he has an investment opportunity he would like us to consider.” Gomez pulled a cigarillo from a pocket and started to puff away on it.  “I tell you what, after the holidays we will have our solicitors go over the documents and if they are sound, we are in business.”

“And if they aren’t?”

“Then we’re family.” Gomez stuck the cigarillo in his mouth and slapped his hands together.  “And you, my young friend, are just in time.”

“Time?” Tony grinned hesitantly. 

“We are getting ready to decorate the tree. Grandmamma has made some of her best cookies and Fester has been working all day on his Christmas Eve punch. 

“It’s only the 23rd.”

“It’s best if it sits for a bit.” Morticia smiled affectionately at Fester. “He really is an _artiste.”_

“Tish, that’s French!” Gomez threw his still-lit cigarillo away and grabbed his wife, kissing his way up her arm.  “Say something else. _Café, petite, déjà vu_.”

“Gomez, we have company. Company now, _déjà vu_ later.”

With a deep breath, Gomez nodded. “Anyhow, come and help us with the tree.  It will give us time to talk about this investment of your father’s.  Are you in the same business?”

“He looks for dead guys.”

“Capital. I like you more already.  Now, these dead people you look for…” 

Tony found himself being led to something that looked like a leftover from A Christmas Past. Its needles were all but gone and nothing but bare branches remained.

“Well, I guess you don’t have to worry about keeping it watered,” Tony joked as Morticia handed him an ornament, a small guillotine.

“True. We will give you the honor of hanging the first ornament.” 

His hand was barely shaking by now. He got it hung and then saw a large lion enter the room.  Without thinking, he drew his weapon and aimed.  “Everyone, stay back.”

“What? From Kitty?”  Morticia went over to stroke the thick mane.  “She just wants to curl up by the fire.”   And there truly was a massive fire burning in the fireplace.  It did little to relieve the gloom of the room, though.  Gomez hugged his wife as an old hag of a woman carried in platters of oddly shaped cookies. 

She offered the platter first to DiNozzo. “Try the bats. I used fresh slugs this time.”

“Grandmamma, you out-did yourself this year. You are spoiling us.”

“One has to occasionally pull out the stops.”

Tony eyed the cookie he held. “You people are crazy.”

“Yes, it’s rather nice, isn’t it?” Gomez gestured expansively.  “Our _casa es su casa_.  I’ve got some hundred year old brandy I’ve been dying to try, providing we can wrench it out of Aunt Lividia’s grasp.”

Tony was actually tempted. As crazy as these people were, he could tell there was genuine affection for each other.  And the truth be known, the cookies weren’t bad.  “Thanks, but I really need to go.”

“Oh, you aren’t going anywhere.” Fester’s voice sounded slightly sinister.

“Why’s that?”

Fester threw open a dusty and torn curtain revealing a world of white. “It’s snowing, silly.”

“Wait! How is this possible?  I’ve only been here… five hours?  How is that possible?”

“Time flies when you are having fun.” Gomez found another cigarillo in his pocket and was puffing away.  Kitty was sprawled out in front of the fire and Morticia was carefully arranging ornaments on the tree.  Two children raced into the room.

“Mother, tell Wednesday she has to let me chop her dolls head off.”

“Not without a rigged trial and many lengthy delays. Due process must be done.”

“Children, no arguing in front of our guest. This is Cousin Tony.  He’s going to be spending the night with us.”  She looked over at Grandmamma.  “Could you be a dear and take him to the guest room, Grandmamma?   Children, come and help me set the table.”

“Yes, mother,” they chorused as Grandmamma took Tony’s arm. “You’ll like the room.  It’s not very comfy.   Oh, you can sleep with your eyes open, can’t you?”

“No,” Tony stammered and Grandmamma smiled at that. And, sadly, Tony still felt that this was probably the most functional family he spent time with.  Eh, he could do worse. 

 


End file.
